First World Problems

Two months ago, we set upon the fairly commonplace venture that is known as Moving House.

Coincidentally, I’ve also been partaking in the recent mini-trend of casually categorising our personal challenges as “first world problems” in friendly banter and I feel like I should add Moving House Stress to this list. Of course, it is so perfectly a first world problem: Choosing where we’ll look, making lists of what we’ll accept, juggling clashing inspection times, whining about the multiple bedrooms being too small… and the big one for me: deciding on the extent of garden-ness of the backyard…. What could I grow here? This is a FWP mainly because, really, I am not affected by anything as serious as having no means to provide food for my family therefore not actually needing a space to grow food. It’s really only MY generously proportioned belly I’ve got to worry about, not any needy dependents. Second, two giant supermarkets are each a 10 minute walk from my house. Elsewhere in the world someone is cooking rice on their dirt floor.

My position of privilege is an ignorant little enclosure whereby, (if I haven’t read the world news for a while) I begin to imagine there is no other problem as great as the one I have right at that moment. The HORROR! The spare room is actually smaller than a basketball court!  The driveway may only fit one of our cars! There is no longer a designated benchtop area for my garden tools and paraphernalia! OH! The Burden!!!!

The garden-ness of this new house is a little less Peter Cundell, a little more Jamie Drury. Stock-standard expanse of lawn, brick garage alongside, and finally, a small, rectangular patio which glides (un)gracefully into cement pathway leading to the timeless centrepiece that is – The Hills Hoist Clothesline.

This yard is glorious really, in its commitment to basic symmetry. The rectangle – celebrated for it’s four neat corners and ability to hold grass and concrete. If Robert Frost had ever stumbled across 2 backyards in a yellow wood his decision would be made for him here – go to the neighbour’s house. Their yard is a miniature orchard jungle!

(And so all this whining is leading us somewhere, ready?), Here it is - staring us right in the pasty white face – the ultimate FWP of moving house – My new backyard’s more boring than the neighbour’s.

Pff...it seems the only solution to all of this is to get my wellingtons on. And start digging.